


Blood Red

by AlexisGreen



Category: Muse
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Belldom - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-22 20:18:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexisGreen/pseuds/AlexisGreen





	1. Chapter 1

Among the glass and the concrete, it was hard to remember he was just a fragile human, one of thousands in the city. His thoughts flew to imaginary constructs, to airborne trains and suspended walkways and buildings soaring into the clouds, air split by the buzz and rattle of technology. His mind pictured it all, in stunning accuracy, down to the last nit and bolt and terabyte. When he breathed in, face turned up towards the sky, he could almost smell the chemical burn. In his hand, the tablet weighed heavy. Sometimes, he almost forgot it was there. Today, he needed it more than any other day. All his plans, all the drawings were saved on it. Today, his dreams turned into words. And hopefully sometime soon, those words would become glass and concrete and metal and wires. Matthew stepped up his pace, the footsteps behind him getting lost in the sea of people heading inside the building.

Dusk clung close to the ground by the time he exited, tired, dazed but so exhilarated. Most of the worker bees of the financial district had gone home already. The bars and restaurants were never empty though; plenty of people unloaded their stress into alcohol and poured over on the streets after hours. Despite the lurking shadows, Canary Wharf never slept. In sync with the music and laughter filtering through the doors of Smolensky’s, he made his way easily towards the tube. He couldn’t wait to get home and start working on his notes. Ideas fuelled him nonstop, but nothing quite compared with ideas going from scribbles to monoliths before one’s eyes.

He made it down to the platform, headphones firmly planted in his ears. He didn’t hear the young (most likely) analysts arrive behind him, just as the “Train Approaching” sign blinked. He felt the scuffle of the small crowd surging however, the way any Londoner who fights for a place on the tube daily does, the slight push and shove that accompanied most train arrivals.

The train stopped and he allowed a couple to step out. They held hands. The woman smiled at him, smiled at his courtesy. Matthew smiled back, euphoria still making him feel intoxicated. The tablet flew out of his hands though. A bump from behind knocked it against the glass divider, before it sent it clattering to the ground. Matthew moved to catch it, as the group of plastered suits pushed beside him, shoving him to get inside before the doors closed. One of his knees hit the floor. Two strong arms pulled him back and out of the crush, before he had a chance to do anything else, to react in any way. His mom used to say that drunks have their own guardian angels. For drunks on the tube, that certainly seemed to apply, he thought ruefully as he frowned at the crack in the display of the tablet.

The doors were still open, but the platform monitor was warning passengers of the impending departure. Matthew meant to jump in. A hand firmly held his elbow though and Matthew remembered that he hadn’t gotten out of the scuffle all by himself.

He didn’t have a chance to say thanks. Warm breath tickled his ear. “You should pay more attention. You took such good care of that tablet today, it’d be a shame if it didn’t make it home in one piece.”

Gratitude was for the stupid, Matthew decided. He rounded on the stranger, shaking off the hold on his arm. “Who are you? Do I know you? Why were you following me?”

“I wasn’t following you. I was stalking him,” the stranger pointed to a hooded figure, half hidden by the smudged glass door of the departing train. By the time Matthew flipped around to catch a better look, the guy was well and truly obscured by the rest of the passengers in the carriage. Even with the distance between them, there was a sinister kind of impression about the man. Matthew shivered.

“You get around a lot, don’t you? I have been onto him for days now, chased him from city to suburbs and back. I could have gotten him tonight. I didn’t want to allow him another-” The stranger carried on talking, surveying the now empty station. When he turned around to look at Matthew, he found himself standing alone at the edge of the platform. About thirty yards away, Matthew climbed the escalator stairs two at a time. He’d stopped listening as soon as he realised the encounter was anything but accidental. He had to get home and salvage what he could out of his blueprints. He also had to shake off a lunatic, preferably without having to contact the police on the spot. On second thought, the police might have to be involved after all, he deadpanned at the exit of the tube station. Apprehension squeezed his gut. The bitter taste of bile flooded his mouth. Those few seconds of hesitation were sufficient. He jumped when someone squeezed his shoulder, and cursed.

“Wait. My name is Dominic Howard, I’m a bounty hunter. Here, this is my warrant,” the stranger pushed a paper in Matthew’s hand. “We should talk.”

Under the neon lights, Matthew squinted at the paper and pretended everything made perfect sense. The incident with the tablet, the chase, the man in front of him… Lithe, long-limbed, unshaven. Matthew knew he had to have more than his instinct and the metallic glint in the stranger’s eyes to go by, but everything about the man screamed danger. Deadly. His own voice at least sounded louder than the thundering heartbeat in his chest as he asked. “Any ID on you?”

“Here’s my driver’s licence. And police authorisation.” Unfazed by the curt demand, Dominic, he did say his name was Dominic, right?, flashed his wallet. “I don’t have any bank statements on me to prove my address though.”

Reluctantly, Matthew returned the wallet. When Dominic pocketed it, Matthew could have sworn he saw a long dagger strapped in a harness underneath his jacket. He switched his weight on his other foot, and clutched the tablet closer to his chest like a shield. Shadows had moved closer in. He and Dominic were left standing in an island of light. In his mind, he calculated he needed at least 2 minutes to reach the closest bar. If he ran. And didn’t trip. “Who was that man?”

Dominic fished a half empty packet of Marlboros out of his jeans. He kept his tone low, almost casual. It took him a few seconds to pat himself down and locate his lighter, before explaining. “He is a convicted felon. He was released after serving 6 years out of an 11-year sentence. He… stalks people.” He finished the last sentence with unease, a heavy kind of disgust running through the words.

“Why isn’t the police chasing after him?”

“Staff cuts,” Dominic shrugged. “The last victim’s family hired me. They are very interested to see him in a court house.”

“Last victim?” Matthew struggled, and failed, to swallow the lump in his throat. “How ma-…,” breathe-breathe-breathe he repeated to himself. “How many victims are we talking about?”

“He served his sentence for one aggravated assault. Since he was released, seven more victims were reported.”

It was painfully quiet around them now. The distant rumble of tracks and carriages deep underneath them still filtered through, yes, but above ground, they were all alone. Matthew felt exposed. “Seven? And this guy is walking around free?”

“Not for long if I have anything to do with it, no. Listen, he’s good at this. Since he got out of prison, he’s gotten even better. If he’s following you, it means he knows your schedule. Lay low for a few days. Go stay with family, or friends for a little while. If you have to work, do it remotely. Or at least pick the rush hours, go with the crowds.”

You know when tragedies strike, what the first thought going through someone’s mind is? Why me. That was exactly what Matthew thought. He rubbed fatigue out of his eyes. “My grandmother is my only living relative. I don’t think I can explain this to her without giving her a major coronary. I’ll stay in a hotel.” He’d have to limit his trips to the office for some time, but that was easily arranged. Nothing other than habit tied him to his home anyway, no partner, no pets. As context slotted into place, he added. “What will you be doing? You know, if I’m not out there like a walking bait?”

Dominic stubbed his cigarette with the toe of his boot. “You’ll still be bait and even more tempting at that. He’ll grow frantic if he can’t find you. He’ll make a mistake, and I’ll be there when he does.”

“You sound very confident.”

“This is not my first job. Come on, I’ll take you home, you can pack a few essentials and we’ll find you a hotel.”

In Dominic’s smile, Matthew saw reassurance. He saw determination. Even safety, as if the threat he noticed earlier was firmly directed towards someone else. Someone else who sought to hurt Matthew. The man hadn’t smiled until then. So Matthew followed him, his stunted steps echoing in the deserted street. Only once they shared the back seat of a black cab, Dominic’s body angled towards him, did Matthew remember he’d left out the most important question of all. “What happens to his victims?”

A deep breath. If Dominic expected the question, he wasn’t in a rush to elaborate. “It’s not pretty. Are you sure you want to know?”

Matthew nodded.

“He rips their throats. I mean, literally.” He reached across the small distance between them and brushed a slender finger across the exact spot on Matthew’s throat. He felt Matthew’s body twitch under his touch. With a sigh, he dropped back into his seat. ”With his teeth. He enjoys biting, dental impressions were found several times, all over the bodies. Victims always die of exsanguination though, as he tears into the carotid artery, and crushes the larynx and oesophagus.”

The cab crossed Tower Bridge, handsome in its blue colours. The last of the day’s tourists still skirmished to get the best angles in prized pictures. Matthew hadn’t had a chance to think of himself as a courageous person. But at the bare minimum he liked to think that, when confronted with gruesome, he would at least hold his dinner down. By the time Dominic stopped talking, he wasn’t sure anymore. And the spot that Dominic’s fingers had touched, exactly where his throat met the collarbone, still throbbed with tension.

“How -,” he started but couldn’t find the strength to finish the sentence. He breathed in and out deliberately a few times. Dominic’s eyes on him did not help at all. “How does he pick them? Us?” he amended.

Stretching his arms in front of him, Dominic cracked his knuckles. Muscles danced under his clothes, lean, trained and Matthew had to look away. “He bides his time. He studies them. Picks loners, exchange students with no family in the country, people with social anxiety disorders, those who live alone and won’t be immediately missed." When he paused, Matthew knew why. He fit a couple of the criteria nicely. "What he does is messy, needs time and, to be frank, he enjoys it. He’ll never rush it, he waits. For the most perfect of moments.”

“So he’s a serial then? Why doesn’t the police arrest him?”

“So far. the police doesn’t believe he’s a viable suspect. You see, the first victim lived. Their investigation is looking in other… directions, let’s say,” Dominic blew hot air on the window and drew a smiley face on the glass. “They’re willing to question him if someone - say, me - brings him in. Hence the warrant.”

An iPhone landed in Matthew’s lap. Dominic waved his permission. “Go on, look into the Photos. There are transcripts of autopsies in there, too.”

“How do I know these are not fakes,” Matthew questioned, even as he realised the angles, the shadows, the colours were all too spot on to have been photoshopped. Grateful for the seat underneath him, he scrolled through the

“You’re welcome to check my story with the Met Police. Any time. If I’m lying, you’ve wasted the cost of a hotel room for one night. If I’m right though… it might just save your life.”

Matthew tapped one of the photos and immediately wished he hadn’t. Another thought niggled at him. “Wait, did you say dental impressions… So why hasn’t he been arrested based on that evidence?”

Dominic’s candid smile turned sinister. “The bites aren’t human. The bite marks belong to a wolf.”


	2. Chapter 2

Later that night, Matthew checked into a small hotel, a very dignified town house tucked in a cul-de-sac just off Fulham Road. Flashing a business card bearing the logo of his latest employer earned him a rather significant discount. His satisfied smile was wiped out at once by Dominic’s morose expression though. Still unhappy about his suggestion of choosing a non-descript Premier Inn being rejected, then. Matthew headed towards the stairs, watching as his two bags were carried for him, too tired to rub in his little victory.

Dominic followed, so quietly that only the bellboy’s bid good night to them both alerted Matthew to his presence. Ignoring Matthew who just stood in the middle of the room looking awkward, Dominic inspected the windows and the street below them. Quiet, just like a no-through road should be at 2 am. No traffic noise filtering through from the main street. Lights out in all the surrounding buildings. Dominic seemed happy, _no, that was too strong a word_ , with the arrangements.

“So. What now?” Matthew ventured a question.

“Use this for calls.” A cheap phone and a plastic case with a brand new SIM card landed on the bed. Large bed, pristine white sheets. Very inviting. Matthew’s eyes nearly watered with fatigue at the sight, but he forced himself to concentrate on the warnings shot at him. “Stay inside. You should be safe if you keep a low profile. Don’t go out.”

That was it? _That was it?!_ Without thinking, Matthew grabbed Dominic’s arm, just as he turned around to leave. He stuttered under Dominic’s scrutiny, interest still clear in the grey eyes, as well as a trace of amusement.

“Yes?” Dominic asked, eying the fingers that still clutched his arm.

Was the room hot? Yeah, the hotel really had to do something about the air conditioning in his room, Matthew decided, and whatever it was they did, it might have to involve shutting down the way Dominic smouldered at him and made him lose track of any coherent questions. “What about you? Won’t it be dangerous for you?”

A side step brought Dominic back in front of Matthew. “We’ve just met. Why are you concerned with me?”

“You’ve -" Matthew seemed at a loss at how to explain his reaction. What he knew for certain though was that he didn't want Dominic to just leave. Just like that, without having thanked him somehow. "Look, I don’t even know what this is, whether you’re raving mad or telling the truth, but you seem to care about me. Not affection, no, that’s impossible, I’m not stupid. We've just met," he echoed Dominic's words. "But like, care about whether I die or– or survive this. It’s only fair that I return some of that concern, you know?”

If, by a miracle of anatomy, he possessed the ability to hear Dominic’s thoughts, Matthew would have been mortified to know Dominic found him cute when he blushed like he did just then. As well as hot. Very hot. When each breath made the vein at the side of Matthew’s throat tremor with effort, and when he struggled to swallow his anxiety. It made Dominic think of really, really bad things. He reached out to touch Matthew, the same spot he had thumbed earlier in the cab. Matthew’s skin flared with heat in response. “I appreciate the sentiment. I’ll be fine.” With a final “Get some sleep,” thrown over his shoulder, Dominic stalked out and left Matthew bewildered behind.

The first thing Matthew did at the crack of dawn was to call the Met Police. The inspector he finally talked to – after fifty-three minutes of holding the line – declined to confirm any details of the investigation, however he was happy to confirm Dominic’s identity and his bounty hunter mandate. He went back to bed and slept until early afternoon, waking up only when his empty stomach and full bladder wouldn’t leave him alone. He ordered a fancy burger, with a double portion of chips, from the room service menu and spent the evening in a bathrobe watching trashy television. His phone didn’t ring once. The second day was spent in much the same fashion, except he had an onion soup for lunch and ventured down to the hotel restaurant for a steak and then some red wine in the bar. No missed calls, no emails, no messages awaited him when he returned to his room. By the third morning, Matthew’s brain had gone wild with hotel room fever and he contemplated buying a wig and make up off the internet and sneaking out just to stretch his legs for ten minutes. He attempted to work, but couldn’t focus on any drawing for more than five minutes without stopping to check his phone – his cheap, stupid phone – for any sign of life. That evening, he pulled some random clothes on, repeating to himself that he was only going to have dinner in the restaurant again, but knowing full well that the temptation to wander outside was too great to resist.

He ended up sneaking out, checking the shadows left behind him by the dim street lights at every second. He grew bolder as he turned onto Fulham Road, each step taken buoying him into venturing further. Too bad most shops were closed by now. He was examining the menu outside a small bistro when the phone growled angrily in his pocket. Dominic’s voice barked in his ear, as soon as he answered. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Where are you?” Matthew refused to let himself intimidated. The night was balmy; there were plenty of people around.  And no one paid any attention to him. Surely there wasn't any danger lurking about? He scanned his surroundings. “Are you watching me? Where are you calling from?”

“I’m stalking your house, you idiot. There's a tracker in your phone. The least you could do is keep yourself safe so that I have one less thing to worry about.”

“Look, I didn’t ask for this. I was just going mental in there." Matthew knotted a hand in his hair. Anxiety rose into his chest again. He shuffled around, his feet slightly uncoordinated.  "I can’t stay inside, stare at the same walls over and over. You didn’t call. I can’t talk to anyone. How do I explain that I’ve isolated myself in a hotel room because there’s a serial killer after me, when not even the police seems to be worried about it?” He got everything out in a single breath and strangely, felt better for it. At the other end of the line, everything went quiet. Matthew wondered if he’d gone too far, if his outburst would earn him anything at all.

“Go back to your room, Matthew. I’ll be there in one hour.”

“Bring food,” Matthew managed to shout down the phone, before the tone went dead. He barely masked the smile on his face, agitation not forgotten, but at least toned down, and made the trip back to the hotel in under half the time it took him on the way out.

Dominic did come that evening. Two hours later, instead of the one he'd promised, justified by a shower and waiting for the crispy duck at his local Chinese, he said. Matthew didn't even dream about arguing. He craved company. Not just any company, he still avoided most social contact. That's what made him a target for his stalker in the first place. But he needed reassurance, he needed to know what was going on with the Wolf - the only nickname he'd been able to conjure for his stalker - and Dominic was the only person who would be able to give him any news. Plus, that thumb-sized spot on his neck still throbbed as if marked by Dominic, three days later. As if his blood boiled just at the thought of another touch.

Matthew tried not to think about _that_ as they ate, little pancakes of duck and cucumber and plum sauce washed down with cool Cobras. He summoned his courage while pushing the egg-fried rice around in its container. He could ask about the Wolf. He just hoped he didn't sound too bold. "Have you made any… progress? With… you know."

Dominic seemed amused. "I'm not managing a project here," he replied. His balled up napkin landed on the table and he stretched back, kicking his feet under the table. The sight of his lean arms made Matthew gulp and blush. "But as a matter of fact, he checked out your house at least twice, most recently yesterday. I followed him on the tube to Canary Wharf, but lost him on the way out."

"Did he see you?"

"No. At least, I don't think so," Dominic said. He reached into the paper bag for another beer, careful not to say too much. He wasn't sure how much could Matthew handle about the situation. Sure, he'd reacted well considering, but… "He must have a few surveillance spots, where he sits and waits. Close to your house, certainly. I'll figure it out in a day or two." He sat back in his chair. "If I'm not babysitting you, that is."

Matthew's defenses went straight up. "You don't have to, you know."

"I was kidding. I don't just want to get this guy. You have to be safe too. Otherwise there's no fucking point to this job that I'm doing." Golden liquid swirled in his bottle as Dominic played with it, his eyes never moving off Matthew. "How's work?"

The change in subject was welcome. Even the atmosphere in the room seemed to lighten up. "I haven't done anything in days. Can't gather any energy to do anything, it's so weird. I called them up today and told them I'll go in next week with my first drafts. Called my grandmother too, cancelled our dinner on Sunday."

"That's probably a good idea," agreed Dominic. "How do I keep you indoors until next week, though? Hmm?"

"Have dinner with me in the evenings?" Matthew's hand flew to cover his mouth as soon as the words were out. He couldn't deny he would have been incredibly happy to see Dominic each evening. It was the fact that he'd had the nerve to voice his mind so freely that shocked him.

Across the table, Dominic hid a pleased smirk. Now that was a welcome turn of events. Fortuitous even. "That can be arranged." Seeing the dimpled smile on Matthew's face was worth much more.

An hour later, Matthew waited by the door as Dominic shrugged his jacket on. Their arms brushed in passing, as Dominic stalked out. For a brief moment, it looked like Dominic wanted to say something. Perhaps something to explain the heat that came off them both in waves, and same heat they'd been avoiding to mention all evening. He murmured a gruff, "Night!", and disappeared from sight in seconds.

When Dominic knocked at his door the next evening, Matthew opened with grin. They shared a meal in the restaurant and all the while, Matthew hoped the pure pleasure such a simple event brought him didn't make him look like a lovesick teenager. He ended up talking too much, jumping to fill in every silence, without noticing that Dominic was perfectly content to listen to his rambles, smile and nod at relevant times.

The following night, they feasted on giant kebabs, topped with garlic sauce and sweet chilli as they watched reruns of Buzzcocks. Both tried to ignore the way the distance between their shoulders grew smaller each time one of them moved. Dominic brought his camera; he'd snapped multiple shots of his stalker that day. Ferocity lit the Wolf's eyes, and Matthew shivered. Dominic explained that he'd been growing sloppy, frustrated by his inability to locate his prey. Matthew almost volunteered to act as bait, and finish the dangerous game they were playing. With a single look, Dominic silenced any stupid ideas Matthew got. That night, Matthew dozed off early, long before Dominic extracted his shoulder from underneath his head and threw a blanket over his legs. He let himself out, but not before allowing himself a light brush of his fingers along Matthew's jaw and down his neck.

On Sunday, around noon, Matthew texted Dominic. A silly request for several magazines and newspapers. An excuse, if he were honest with himself, to extend the communication between them outside the designated two hours of dinner and some alcohol. He got no reply, which really didn't mean much. Dominic could have been busy; or he could have gotten the message and would show up later with his magazines. But then, 8pm came and went, without a sign from Dominic. An hour later, Matthew paced the room, feeling stupid about having styled his hair and gone through three changes of clothes in anticipation of dinner. Phonecalls went straight to voicemail, voicemails got no answer. Concern had crept up on him already; his pulse quickened as a firm knock on the door made him jump. He rushed to open and he knew he should have been relieved to see Dominic, but he wasn't, no, not at all. Dominic's grim posture might have reflected onto him, but there was more than that; Matthew gasped, as he noticed a stained bandage peeking from beneath the collar of Dominic's tee. And then the deep tear in his jacket sleeve, that looked like something very sharp went through. And the dark, half-wet stains on the black jeans. "What -"

"Get a coat, come with me," Dominic interrupted. "I have a cab downstairs waiting. Your grandmother is in surgery."

Matthew stayed calm. He didn't question Dominic, didn't raise his voice, didn't panic. In less than a minute, he followed Dominic out of the hotel and into the cab, a red hoodie hastily pulled on. He stayed calm. And beyond that composed exterior, Dominic knew that he didn't have to tell him much else, that Matthew figured out already that his stalker had gone after his grandmother, when he failed to get Matthew.

With a troubled look, Dominic stopped Matthew from rushing into the hospital when they reached their destination. "He's been taken care of. He's gone. You have nothing to worry about now. A word of warning though. Your grandmother will tell officers she was attacked by a wolf -"

Incredulity was easily visible across Matthew's face. "A wolf? Like… an actual animal wolf?"

"Yes. What the officers found in her house though, was human. At least, human remains," Dominic amended. He lit up a cigarette. After the time spent together, this disclosure was what he feared most. This and the effect on where Matthew and Dominic stood from now on.

"How is that even possible?"

Dominic skirted around the answer. "The Met will follow the evidence. There will be plenty of loose ends, and they will not be able to ever fully reconcile what happened. The consultants here will agree with your grandmother's story - her wounds were caused by a large canid. I will however be telling them that I incapacitated her assailant and called 999. The rest is up to them."

"Why?"

"Because no one will believe me if I tell them that the wolf I killed turned to man, even as his carcass cooled off in your grandmother's sitting room."

Silence stretched on as Matthew processed the information. Dominic thought he'd be grilled further; however Matthew turned around and headed into the building, leaving him alone with his cigarette. That, plus all the things he hadn't been honest about, at least not yet.

Dominic watched Matthew spend time with his grandmother, even though she was heavily sedated. He stood back, fading into the background, as Matthew talked to the consultant. Vicious bites punctuated her shoulders, and an artery and a lung had been nicked in the process, the doctor explained. She would recover though, given sufficient time and care. And then it was the Met's turn, although they had few questions for Matthew himself.

"Thank you, inspector, I'll make sure he gets home safely," Dominic wrapped up the discussion. He pulled Matthew after him, gently. Outside, he flagged a cab for them. "Home or -"

"Hotel," Matthew clarified. He spoke the address to the cabbie quickly. "Most of my stuff is still there. I'm not sure I want to go back home anytime soon." He shuddered and huddled in a corner of the cab, colour still drained from his cheeks, eyes still wild with concern.

"You don't seem to fazed by tonight." His voice sounded eerily calm again, and it caught Dominic by surprise.

"I'm glad you're safe. And your grandmother will recover in a few weeks. You heard the doctor."

"And I thank you for rescuing her. And me. Did you know about him? About what he can do?"

There were so many things Dominic wanted to say, but only one that mattered. And it was painted all over his face, supplying a much better answer than anything Matthew had suspected. It definitely kept Matthew quiet for the rest of the ride and the entire time it took to be back in the hotel, sliding his key card through the lock on his room.

"Stay," he surprised himself by asking.

"You want me to?"

"Yes." Matthew didn't dare tell him about all the ways he still wanted Dominic to stay, even after the events of the night. He hoped that shuffling inside and opening the door wide gave Dominic the right idea.

And it did. Dominic crossed the room in two strides and grabbed him. He lifted Matthew up easily and crushed their bodies together, slamming Matthew against a wall. The moan that vibrated within Matthew's throat was guttural and lascivious and hungry; Dominic swallowed it whole. Gone was any hesitance there might have been a day, two days before. Teeth smashed together, bites more frequent than any actual kissing. The passion was raw, it was out of control and both of them fell into it.

Hands flew to dispose of clothing, Matthew's timid and shivering, Dominic's possessive. The wound on Dominic's shoulder still bled slightly, smudging the bandage, as he lifted Matthew's ass to get rid of the jeans and boxer shorts. Matthew had such incredibly pale skin, contrasting with his glossy, black hair; it was exquisite to watch that beautiful bare skin grow stained with arousal. Dominic's hand, flattened on his abdomen, just barely teasing his groin, was enough to send the muscles in Matthew's lower back aflutter. The urgency in their touch thrilled him. His arms tightened around Dominic's neck and he brought his legs up to circle Dominic's waist, just as two fingers found his asshole and slipped inside, no lubrication, just pure friction.

Dominic's breath warmed a spot just above his collarbone, and his tongue followed, finding that exact spot his fingers had caressed the first time they met. Matthew's pulse beat in double time, his head hitting the wall behind him, leaving Dominic unrestricted access. Two fingers slipped by Matthew's lips, making him choke back another moan. I'm tasting myself, he thought in a delirium of sense overload, before those fingers pushed back against his rim, stretching him.

He screamed when Dominic's cock slammed inside him, begging for more and begging for mercy within the same breath. His stomach knotted in pain and in pleasure, his whole body seizing up with overwhelming heat.

Dominic pushed a little hard, withdrew, then slammed back inside him, with perfect rhythm, and perfect pressure. The gasps that trembled in Matthew's throat told him that Matthew was still adjusting to take him whole, but he didn't want to wait, didn't want Matthew to overthink any detail of their fucking. He pulled Matthew into his lap, trapping his leaking cock between them, then carried the smaller man to the sofa in the corner of the room. He bit Matthew's bottom lip hard; blood surged to the surface of the broken skin and he tasted the saltiness on his tongue. With a calculated move, Dominic threw Matthew down and flipped him, pushing his face into the cushions. The smack of his thighs against Matthew's ass filled the room, as he moved faster and faster.

Beneath him, Matthew's knees almost buckled. Snaking an arm around his hips, Dominic kept him in position, ass up in the air, shoulders digging into the sofa. Not once did Matthew's body stop shivering, his eyes screwed shut all the while. He howled his release into the soft cushions, having not touched his cock at all, and blacked out. Dominic growled above him, biting his shoulder and came inside of him.

The first light of dawn filtered between the curtains. Matthew wondered if he was asleep and still dreaming, because Dominic murmured in his ear. "Finally, you're mine. If that asshole had any sort of above average intelligence, he would have understood that you were not supposed to be touched. That you were all mine. That I have been waiting for you for a long time. He should have seen the signs. And he had to pay for it." 

"Mine," Matthew echoed, sleep shedding its hold on him with every one of Dominic's words.

"Mmm," Dominic hummed behind him, breath tickling Matthew's throat. "I didn’t rescue you, Matthew. I claimed you as my own. I am the hunter. I'm also the wolf."

 

 


End file.
